First class and proud
by Olive nerd
Summary: Here are a couple of one-shots and story starter fanfics for X-Men first class!
1. Wished away part one

Title: Wished away

**This is rated T for mild profanity and violence. I do not own any X-men movies or anything else from X-men or the extra references from other movies. Enjoy!**

Plot: Emma Frost wasn't vehement with the humans; she just knew not one of them possessed the nerve to bargain. Charles Xavier, meanwhile, would now possess a bargain not even Shaw could have. The price: He has a fortnight to alter his fate or she chooses his fate for him. Charles/Erik, Charles/Emma, and possibly others, AU after beach scene

Prologue

"_I wish that I could fly, way up in the sky, like a bird so high. Oh I might just try." _

Hollywood Undead, _Bullet_

"If I wasn't so bored, I wouldn't talk to myself…." The busty blonde caught her tongue, winced at how flat her voice seemed, and tensed as a CIA agent passed her cell. "Shaw better have that damn plan worked with those sons-of-bitches squared!"

Those submissive idiots granted not one full meal to her. Breakfast and dinner came from what's-her-name's recommendations, but a slither of bacon and a glass of milk wasn't exactly Emma's cup of tea. And as her stomach growled, her mind was desperately searching for observations. 'Those damn humans think technology can break off every ability,' she cynically thought. Overtime, however, she relented. Not one connection from Shaw or any of the mutants could be traced.

"Of course… no connection… only…"

Her crystal blue eyes soon drifted from her snow-white boots and to the obtuse grey floor beneath them. As much as Emma was sick of gazing down at it, she was presently masking a foxy grin.

'So piteous and unaware of what it came across… like its owner. '

During Emma's musings, she scraped the metallic surface with the tips of her boots, following the superficial pattern of the squares, squares housing silver, reflective X's.

"X." The letter trailed off her sparkly tongue like velvet, and involuntarily, she transformed into her original form. "Xavier…." Azure eyes flashed melancholically, likely to perceive her skull. "Charles Xavier… the telepath."

A remorseless grin reached her sugar pink lips. 'Yes… the telepath would know now, would he?'

Charles Xavier was keenly interesting, and few people in Emma Frost's life were deemed with the privilege of keenly interesting her. As a telepath, and a rather naïve and young professor, he was obsessively searching and reaching for training methods for his clan of teenage mutants. His thoughts of any chance of war with the humans and obstructions for 'peace' made Emma gag inside. He was a desolate child with a sister full of insecurities under his wing in a world 'civilized' by a lower species; was not a life worth risking for mutant revival?

Charles stood on their side, no matter what. She felt his profound draw to his students and his boundary for peace. She felt his modesty when he and that metal-bender Erik first met her face-to-face. Quirky he was, and far too innocent to comprehend how different the humans would be witnessing 'foreign and freakish' abilities.

On a more personal note, both telepaths shared a common ground, whether the latter knew or not. Before the CIA got a hold of Emma, she gained a morsel of miniscule knowledge that, no matter how hard she tried to shake off, couldn't abandon; the professor fell for Erik Lehnsherr.

Emma saw it coming anyhow, during their first meeting. She calculated their synchronized actions, looks, and behavior. It all rested in genes, and she dealt with victims of that vulgar and underrated degree. Furthermore, she knew that Shaw would've chuckled and used such input for his own findings, if he currently wasn't self-absorbed and bigheaded in his big-boy helmet.

All of this didn't faze her. What fazed her was that she was interested in someone against her, and never had that happened. Sebastian Shaw was her most favorable boss with a smirk and plan, but Shaw was coolly dissatisfied with an agenda that wasn't his, and kindness was now the outlier. But, this Charles Xavier… she felt his kindness before he would register it. The reflexes of vomiting crossed her mind, but they never remained.

Emma's knuckles whitened as she pleasurably gripped the arm rests of the frail chair in the midst of her cell; she was inside his mind and, as long as she was in her normal form, undetected.

"CIA technology my ass…."

_The battlefields of the humans held more honor to Emma. The beach scene held a pungent scent of a decaying body, her old boss'. The picture blurred by the corners, and yet the tears stinging her eyes didn't break her concentration._

"_Just another flea," she muttered confidently, masking her affections. Affections were useless in present-time to the icy mutant. But now and then, even the most ill hearted mutant of the Hellfire Club would actually accept her feelings privately for the most subordinate ones, mutants or humans. _

_Now with their leader killed, the Hellfire Club watched pensively as Erik Lensherr controlled the missiles directed toward the beach. Near him, Charles Xavier regarded his 'best friend' with panicky thoughts. The other mutants on Charles' side were shuffling like the teens they were._

"_How heroic," Emma congratulated sardonically. "Shaw, here I am doing everything." She was just about to squish the minds of both Charles and Erik when an eddy of concern washed over her. "The telepath…" She squeezed the back of her head and groaned as more thoughts zoomed in, mutters of 'please don't,' whimpers of 'Erik.'_

"_Stop…" She had no control over her fort now. Because she had been placed in that cell, she held less control of her powers, and Charles was now able to interfere with the connection without realizing her head was in on the matter. His thoughts leaked viciously into hers, multiplying her tears. _

_The scene did not pause or rewind itself. Charles Xavier tackled the metal-bender to the sand, receiving, dodging, and giving punches. Then, Erik rose over Charles and resumed his plan, not a second before bullets were sent straight towards Erik._

_The blonde smirked at the brunette expectantly. "I should have known a stupid human girl would shoot because of a magic trick-" harsh, deafening screams made the queen of diamonds grow blanch and rooted to her spot. The screams cascaded down her eardrums to her ankles, weakening them and filling her mind with an alienable dread. The screams were pathetic. The screams came from the result of a mutant, inferior to his own self. Charles' intimate friend struck him, and eventually, paralyzed him._

_The woman perked up to the scene, breathing deeply after feeling Charles' horrible thoughts float away from her. Agony now replaced her boredom, as well as fully-grown pity for the paralyzed professor. Hearing the close exchange between the metal-bender would be heart wrenching for some human girl like that stout Mac-maggot. But to Emma, the relationships held doors wide open. With Shaw dead and her powers in full use, she could devise a bargain. _

_Glancing one last time at the mind of the studious Charles Xavier, she grinned as she stared at shattered imagery. Hope was piped out as soon as the bullet penetrated his spine. He thought he was invulnerable to even Erik. But now, his hope was in demand from Emma, and her decision left no room for argument. _

"_It's time I enter in your team, Charles Xavier." She batted her eyes for no one, grinning widely for a barren stage. "I've got one more talk to share with you." _


	2. Beautiful

Beautiful

**What was Emma thinking when Charles and Erik confronted her? Warning: Spoilers in story, not just from X-Men First Class, I do not own X-Men**

No mutant is left behind. She kept that oath, no matter how sharp she grew.

'These crackers I'm eating couldn't be more dry,' Emma Frost thought as she watched the foolish elder kiss and caress her mental clone while sitting on a huge bed. If she wasn't involved in Shaw's plan or appalled by the impish humans, Emma wouldn't have babysat the disgusting old man with five grant at her disposal. In times like these, she was grateful for her ability to manipulate minds and project decoy.

"Pathetic," she ventured herself to say, right before nibbling on another sorry-excuse-of-a snack. Emma skipped breakfast for the mission and now hates herself and her persistent stomach. Her hunger mingled with her boredom. A threat to plans hadn't crossed paths with Emma alone yet, and she figured there would be something or someone soon.

'Get ready, creator.'

'Sorry, I can't leave him.'

Thoughts brushed her mind, thoughts she could access freely as the hosts sprinted. They were both men, both pursuing her and the Hellfire Club, both seeing them as potential threats. However, one was evidently the revengeful metal-bender she encountered not too long ago: Erik Lehnsherr. The other was the esteemed telepath she blocked that same night :Charles Xavier.

Now she was amused with something interesting. Erik was viciously pulsating with thoughts revolving around his childhood, his mother's death, the traumatic experiments Shaw abused him with, and oddly- the telepath. The latter's only thoughts were about their plan and it's flaws and, naturally, Erik. Both were thinking of each other, worried and projecting thoughts without considering listeners like her.

Maybe they did care. Or, maybe there was nothing unusual at all between them. They were only thinking about each in terms of protection, a friendly concern. But, denial was also a potent possibility. Emma had rarely ever encountered homosexual humans in her life, much less mutants. But if she had to take a stab at it, she'd believe mutants and humans, mutants especially, would shield true sexuality because those who hid knew exception was as crucial as daily mannerisms. And that would be the perfect explanation when thinking about the two male mutants.

Suddenly, the pair poured into the room, immediately stunned. There was Emma Frost sitting casually and wearing only underwear and the elderly man stroking and groping thin air on a mattress.

When the man saw Charles and Erik through the illusion of Emma, he panicked and looked prepared to call for backup. Charles then intervened and mumbled, "sleep," with an extended hand, and the man slumped into the bed and slept. As he was lured to sleep, Emma rose in her indestructible diamond form, and the three mutants stared cooly at each other.

Erik was stiff and silent, but Emma felt Charles subtly attempt to read her thoughts. She gave him the cold treatment, observing his own precious thoughts and blocking him out. It was what he deserved anyway, though she did sympathize his cause and knew his powers could dominate hers if he saw fit to. If it wasn't for his compassion towards humans, (which no doubt sprouted from his wealthy childhood and association with them as a successful young professor,) she'd consider suggesting to Shaw a merge between sides.

But, a mutant on the enemies' side was a mutant on the enemies' side. Both mutants have earned the chance of swimming through or deteriorating in the future ruin and rumble of what were once locations densely populated with judgmental humans. Not even the innocent look from Charles could dance with the truth, with the knowledge.

"You can stop trying to read my mind, sugar." Charles winced as she slammed his mind with the fortifying gates shaped in her mind, reminding him of who was the silent pup with the metal shark and who was the one with the upper hand. "You're never going to get anything out of me, not in this form."

As she spoke, Emma attempted to maintain a steady distance in-between the men, while keeping her eyes locked on them. After a single moment, the peace was interrupted, and Emma zipped to the doors. Unfortunately for her, both men had quick reflexes and were ~close in proximity enough to grab her forcibly, carry her, and sit her in front of them.

"Then how about we talk it over," Erik stated stoically. The metal mended into the bed behind her coiled around her wrists, restraining her from a quick escape. She felt his impatience thin and felt Charles secretly hope she'd inform them pleasantly. Poor naive simpleton...

Emma barely paid attention to Erik, who muttered a question, as Charles stared down at her intently with a hint of curiosity and pity. She was tempted to crush the thoughts of her being lower with brutal fists, no matter how much he radiated with a rare sense of selflessness. As she continued reading him, the metal-bender sent another restraint around her neck and began crushing it. The glistening diamond would never back down to some simple metal, especially not for a threat with dark and ominous intentions. His death would predictably aid both mutants and humans, she guaranteed that as she finally glared at the grey-eyed shark with contempt and fierceness in her icy blue eyes.

But then, the ice in her eyes melted when Charles muttered, "Erik that's enough."

The simpleton was obsequious to the shark now, a pawn in his little game of chess. Only, Emma knew there'd never be a queen to steal; one king simply wanted the one relationship the other could not give. Charles desired peace and desired Erik being there to stand by him and the band of teenage mutants. There'd be others, but Emma was well-aware of a telepath's fidelity and stubbornness; hence men like Shaw and Erik and Charles Xavier would never ever read her or see her as their prize.

If that were so, however, then why did the restraint around her neck feel submissive to the thoughts streaming from Erik? 'She's a pawn of Shaw,' Erik rationalized with himself. 'Charles, you can't keep this up! Her death isn't our concern!' He was frustrated with Charles' begging, but also fuzzy inside when Charles reached into his own mind.

'Killing her won't settle anything. If you have any sympathy for those alone, you'd stop. I need you to, Erik.'

"Erik, stop!"

Suddenly, the restraint on her neck was zapped off, and Emma's breath returned to her as her diamond form left her. She thought diamonds were truly indestructible and there'd be no cracks, but that didn't explain the burning bruises on her neck. She glared unforgivably at both men. One was the catalyst, and one knew how to crush diamonds just by being there. And she almost believed the old man was her worst problem...

Erik shrugged and approached the window to his right slowly, predatorily. Everything about him posed a threat to Emma, and everything that he was clung to Charles' generosity for support like crutches. 'Both men will earn crutches when I tell Shaw about this,' she predicted as Charles knelt to her level.

With his index finger touching the left side of his head, Charles dug carefully into Emma's mind, politely dodging the temptation to give her whole life a scan in mere seconds. She felt him observe her knowledge of Shaw's plan of nuclear war between the U.S. and Russia, with missiles placed in Cuba right by American shores, which would result in an implosive nuclear war. Mutants would warrant no discrepancy, so long as the humans knew what was the superior race and what they, as brothers and sisters, will terrorize nations for.

Charles stopped there, his gaze hardening and his peripheral vision clearing. He had beautiful eyes, she noticed, eyes that would penetrate the skull of Mr. Lehnsherr. It was all like a sappy silent film to the female telepath, how the one with beauty and tranquility would fall to the numb predator. She hadn't seen such eyes since she joined the Hellfire Club, before her only company became male mutants who were either using her for missions or eye candy. Who wouldn't drown in such compassionate eyes?

'Focus,' she screamed inwardly, giving Charles a stare slightly softer than the one she pierced Erik with earlier. "Beautiful, Isn't it?"

'Beautiful...Erik's a lucky guy.'

She had briefly forgotten she wasn't in her natural form, but Charles didn't register any more thoughts as he swiftly met Erik's eyes with his. "This is worser than we thought." Because they knew she'd return to Shaw if not defenseless and watched, Emma would be transferred to the CIA's HQ.

'Oh, you haven't seen the last of me,' Emma projected to Charles once they were out of her earshot. 'Little boys shouldn't befriend sharp tools.'

Emma still looked back, despite how the game's rules changed. She did warn him, and now the blunt suffered. Moreover, no mutant is left behind, and Charles chose to fall for the mutant who'd embody his own demise.

She never knew the professor's own musings of her, if there were any, so it wasn't her place to care. Still, she still pictured those gratifying, beautiful eyes and how powerful they would have been if she could have claimed them.


	3. X-Men goes to daycare

X-Men First Class goes to daycare

** The whole main gang, before discovering their abilities, heads to day care in the present decade. I know no one in the movie is in the exact same age range, and these youngsters sound very gifted for three to five-year old toddlers. But luckily, this is fictional, and gifted was what I was trying to portray them as. Enjoy, and reviews are always appraised!**

**By the way, this fanfic doesn't exactly follow the movie plot, but it links with some personalities! R and r!**

There are exceptions to every rule. Whether it is gum under the table or ice cream before lunch, all it can take sometimes is a "just once," and willpower after. Then, there is the first day of daycare, where almost anything can happen, especially to children who are beyond their peers.

Moira clutched her purple princess Pegasus lunchbox and checked to see if her lavender shoelaces were undone, again, and was pleased to find them secured in a knot. But what she was not pleased with was the mammoth, brick red building in front of her.

She heard her mother object to the idea of sending her off to the center the night before, yet her father insisted Moira only had to attend daycare until either he or her mother could pick her up after work.

"It'll be worth it, precious angel," he assured her right before he sped off to work at the police station. "And next year, you'll be with the gifted class!"

By "gifted class", her father meant the children in pre-kindergarten who were advanced enough to perform excessive cognitive games and exercises. Her father truly knew his only daughter; it excited the three and a half year old vastly and to no end. But as much as Moira was looking forward to a "gifted class", she still felt overestimated and inadequate when it came to her mental abilities. Besides, little girls in her neighborhood said being a gifted kid meant one was marked as a smelly, rotten nerd forever and ever. And being a toddler, she couldn't help but trust a group of six and seven year olds.

"Here I go," Moira whispered and took her mother's hand to be lead inside. All pessimistic thoughts aside, Moira had the bizarre idea that something excited would come forth inside the daycare center.

X

Hank imagined the day he had to go somewhere without his parents would be magical, exotic and thrilling even, and it would free him. Unfortunately, it was far from that.

He was going to be a year behind the other children. Granted, his father saw a genius in him at only three years of age. In the meantime, all Hank saw in him was a lover of paints, construction, and laboratories.

Sure, perchance not every three-year old could separate the primary and secondary colors from the intermediate colors on the original color wheel or memorize every use for every science lab tool. But to Hank, his interests were results of quirkiness, and he had the cynical presumption his old man was grasping the quickest opportunity of having his only son out of the house since his mother left them.

X

"I'm so very sorry!" Mrs. Frost simply shook her dainty head and grinned for the distraught mother clinging to her child, who was about willing to hang himself.

"We've had some trouble at home and- and…." The pitiful woman was sobbing incessantly. She kneeled to her son, Alexander.

"Alex, baby, just do everything she, Mrs. Frost, tells you to do. Okay?"

Alex nodded obediently and barely gave his mother a pat on the shoulder. She nodded in return, stood up for a few minutes to look at him, and left with a muttered, "thank-you," to Mrs. Frost.

While both adults weren't looking, Moira entered with her mother and gasped when she saw Alex. On her street, he was infamous for causing havoc for no apparent reason. Moira wondered if there was an actual reason behind the boy's actions.

"Alex," she called out. The blonde-headed boy growled in response, and Moira could only squeal and hide behind her cooing mother.

X

A five-year old girl with curly blonde hair pouted in front of a pastel playpen. Why her mother worked at a dirty daycare center and kept her back from kindergarten for another year was beyond her. She'd rather stay at home with her dolls and sketchbooks.

"Are you gonna eat that rice cake?"

She made a barfing noise and tossed the rice cake to the dark-haired boy, which landed in his little chubby hands.

"I had to save it for lunch, but I've got me no appetites." She scowled and hugged her knees to her chest, and the boy sat beside her. "And Momma is driving me crazy!"

"I think it's awesome."

"What?" Her curiosity got the best of her.

"Your mom works here, and she's really pretty… like you."

She abruptly stood up and towered over the sitting boy. "Is it that ob-vee…. Uh…"

"Obvious?"

The girl flushed and cried, "uh-huh! Obvious!"

"Well, you both have pretty blonde hair, like my cousin." Soon, the boy was flushing as much as she was, and the girl smiled shyly and twirled a strand of her hair.

"Is it really, really pretty?"

After a moment of hesitation, he nodded bashfully and stuck his hand out to her. "I'm Sebastian."

She smiled sweetly and shook his hand. "Nice to meet a man with manners! I'm Emma, Emma Frost!"

X

"I wish Raven could come with me, Mommy."

Charles had never done anything as risky as attending daycare without his baby sister before. Ever since Raven was born, the two siblings were instant two peas in a pod. But, the closest daycare center only accepted toddlers at ages three to five years old. Raven was barely two.

"One more year, Charles." His father kissed his forehead gently and returned to the family silver minivan in the parking lot. Unbeknownst to his father, Charles was carrying more than pencils, paper, and his lunch in his red, yellow, and blue book bag.

"I'll let you out at recess," Charles murmured to the owner of fiercely kicking tiny feet. One foot met his lower back, and Charles had to suppress a groan, as two parents were struggling close by with their redheaded son. He was throwing the biggest, grossest tantrum Charles had ever beheld.

"I can't go! I will pee!"

"They have potties for big boys, Sean." A woman Charles figured was his mother tried to soothe him.

"And not for little boys who cause vexation." A man Charles figured was his father warned him.

"Let me out, Charley!"

"Sh!" Charles was trying to keep his little sister quiet and out of sight, but he eventually had to abscond into the daycare center because he heard his sister start to unzip the backpack.

X

"What a doofus!" Two boys had gathered and hid every toy in sight, since they shook on it and heard it was fun to make other kids, especially girls, angry. While they were finishing up their plan, a chocolate brown-haired boy with glasses and paints in his hands walked into the room.

"Hey, Riptide!" A boy with raven black hair nicknamed Azazel roared with laughter and waddled up to the other boy. "Take a load of this stinker!"

"Yeah, Aza!" Azazel's friend nicknamed Riptide laughed vainly at the other boy, Hank. They both were barely a year older than them.

"He's so dorky-looking, I might catch his dorkiness!"

"And what is wrong with that?" A little girl with dark hair ran up to the boys and smirked. She was lucky enough to be a bit taller for her age and look down at the bullies.

"My mommy says nerdy boys grow up cute like my daddy!"

Riptide snarled and shoved the girl to her bottom. "Don't make me fart! You're so ugly, your mommy and daddy probablys like to lie to you all the time!"

Tears swelled up in the girl, Angel's, hazel eyes. "You big bullies! Suddenly, more kids were piling in the rom and watching the spectacle in awe.

"Riptide! Oh, man!" Azazel ran his beefy little hands in his gelled black hair and shouted, "That's not how you treat a lady!"

"It's not!"

"Uh- NO! Here's what you do!" He marched up to Hank and shoved him to the floor. Then, he snatched his toy boat lunchbox and dangled it over his bewildered and frightened face.

"Let's see what's in nerdy boy's lunchbox!"

X

Commotion began before Charles could even place his belongings in his cubby space. He had managed to sneak in without any adults in sight. It was awfully great luck for him, because Raven wouldn't stop rambling for a second.

"This cubby small! Me wants drink! Can you gets a drink? Spider! SPIDER! Nevermind. No! It's you dead pet rock! I sat on it!"

"Mr. Macho?" Charles' face crumpled, fighting the urge to cry. His mother always told him to be brave and kind in front of Raven when he could be.

Two hands cupped his face. "Don't cry, Charley," begged his sister.

Charles grinned ear to ear at Raven and offered her his bag of sugar cookies. "I won't, Raven. Please stay till recess. I wont' let you get in trouble."

After kissing his sister's hands, he tenderly hid her in his backpack in his cubby space and ran to the noisy room.

X

"Are you bleeding?" Erik glanced at the little boy who wore a neon green cooking apron.

"Nope. Red paint." He smeared the smudges of paint off of his cheeks and arms, grabbed his Sippy cup, and chugged down the apple juice in it.

"I'm Armando." He hopped beside Erik, but Erik groaned to himself. As an only child, he didn't necessarily adore attention of any kind.

"Did you hear about that boy making that girl cry," asked Armando, who munched on some gummy worms stored inside of his jean pockets.

Erik's stare hardened. "What girl?"

X

"And then we spitted on every single doll," Azazel roared, gripping Hank's shirt and mimicking Angel's melancholic face.

"Stop bullying him and stealing the toys here!" Angel furiously stomped on Riptide's feet, and the boy winced and screamed in fury.

"My feet! My feet!" Fists raised, he was about ready to fistfight until the last toddler stood, but someone hopped behind him and shoved him.

"It's Erik and Alex," Moira cried, holding on to Emma, who just entered from the playpen with Sebastian. "Your mommy works here, right?"

"Y-yeah but…" Emma wrapped her arms around Sebastian's neck. "Seb, do something!"

When Sebastian saw the menacing expressions on the two boys' faces, which were the faces of his intimidating friends back at home, he shrugged Emma off and joined their side against Erik, Angel, and Alex.

"Get them, Erikson!" Armando raced after the fighting boy right before Charles tottered into the catastrophe.

"This is the attendance room," he slowly assured himself, watching the hostile hustle of five screeching guys and two sobbing girls.

"What is this?!" A redheaded woman with an apron on like Armando's only bigger skittered into the room with her arms akimbo.

"Mrs. Frost! Mrs. Frost!" Witnessing the fight made the poor lady sweat and shout for the elder of the center. "My goodness, the kids are fighting on the first day!"

"It's quite alright, Ms. Xavier." Mrs. Frost hurried into the room with the crimson-faced boy Charles saw earlier outside. She whispered something into Ms. Xavier's ear and received a nod.

"That I can do, Mrs. Frost!" Charles could feel his aunt's disapproving gaze settle upon him.

X

"What'd I do, Auntie?" She rolled her bright blue eyes and smoothed her red hair.

"You smuggled your sister- again. What are your parent, no, what are we all going to do with you, Charles?"

"I couldn't let Raven stay home alone," Charles whined, about ready to throw a tantrum like Sean did recently.

"As much as I know she appreciates having you around, you can't carry her around forever, dear." She kneeled to his eyelevel and smiled with a wink. "Come now. You don't want Raven to embarrass you in front of any new friends you make here, do you?"

"She's my one and only friend," announced Charles with a pout. Ms. Xavier sighed in defeat, took her nephew's hand, and led him to Mr. Xavier's office up ahead.

"I do admire you a lot, Charles. So much like your father you are…"

X

"What are we going to do with you, young man? You're barely four and you're fighting other children and-" Blah, blah, blah! Mr. Frost reminded Erik of a nonstop electric train, fidgety and predictable. Why were adults so alike, so fidgety, and most importantly, so tragically predictable anyway?

"Mr. Frost?" Ms. Xavier entered the office, which was very tidy that early afternoon, with Charles and Raven still in her big brother's book bag.

"So this is the packer," Mr. Frost declared after Ms. Xavier rushed out. "Your aunt says you're a big genius, Charles, going far in life someday."

Although Charles begged to differ, he gulped and nodded in response.

"Here's what we do with first time troublemakers- timeout. The other children will be pardoned from this-"

"But those boys started it," Erik snapped. Mr. Frost simply finished his sentence.

"-And I hope boys as young as you can learn from this. That'll be all."

Both boys shivered. Mr. Frost reminded the boys, Erik especially, of one of those authoritative cartoon villains.

X

"I hate my life."

"You are five."

"Four and three quarters.

"Well, that makes me the oldest. I'll be five next week."

"Well…. you packed your sis."

Charles huffed and crossed his arms. He was seated on a light blue plastic chair across the fighter, Erik, who was seated on a red-orange chair.

"Where is she anyhows," Charles wondered out loud.

"At home where she belongs," Erik guessed boastingly.

Disgusted, Charles made a face that looked like a sneer meeting a pout on his face. "What do you know? You're just a stupid meanie in a fight and hitting girls!"

"I didn't hit no girls," Erik raised his voice, sitting straight in his chair. "Three dudes on my street back home did the punching and making girls crying!" He clenched his fists. "I can't stand it… girls crying…"

He had no idea what in his head deemed Erik trustworthy, but something in his bluish-grey eyes reflected Charles, and the boy decided to listen attentively to Erik.

"See, Dad once told me on my birthday that Mom died while crying… when she had me." For a four-year old, Erik had a marvelous poker face, but speaking about his late mother tore it right off. The tears came before Erik could register anything else.

Now Charles wasn't a boy who appreciated crying much either, especially when Raven bawled up from time to time. So, before he could register anything else, Charles wrapped his arms around Erik and cried with him.

"I've got no braves in me," Erik whispered. "That's why… I've got no friends."

Charles smiled and patted Erik's back. "Don't be sad. I'll be a friend to you." His smile suddenly widened and his face glowed. "You can be Raven's mommy!"

"Uh, no? How about the daddy?"

Charles released Erik and frowned apprehensively at his reply. "Listen, mister! Accordings to Raven, I'm her only daddy!"

"Cousin Hankie! Cousin Hankie!"

"Speak of the devil…"

The blonde toddler waddled off close by with Ms. Xavier at her heels. Raven was chasing a boy with glasses down the hall.

"HELP!"

Erik gave Charles a quizzical look, but Charles only shrugged.

"Welcome to my world."

Nearby, a frowning young boy with curly brown hair named Logan was eating his lunch. When he noticed Raven, Hank, Erik, and Charles, he barfed out his ham sandwich.

"Great... I've lost my pride with these idiots."

The End


	4. A better man

A better man

**This is a post- X-Men FC poem from Charles' P.O.V. about Erik. **

I'm a better man, the winner of the game.

When you were the wild, I was the tame.

When you would rather dash, I'd stay safe and crawl.

Yet at the last hour, I was the man to fall.

I'm a smarter man, the seducing, numb receiver.

When you were the monster, I was the perceiver.

When you would rather find him, I'd call out to you.

Yet at the last minute, you had those orbs of blue.

I'm a kinder man, the sympathizer of the group.

When we made quite a pair, the kids would start to snoop.

When we claimed our input, war was never again surreal.

Yet at the last second, your whisper guided my mind to heal.

I'm a safer man, the brain for a cease.

When you were speaking of him, I spoke of peace.

When you said it wasn't there, I'd desire submission.

Yet at any time, you couldn't die in an expedition.

I'm the best man, the controller of the panel.

When we were determined, everything we could handle.

When we joined hands, no force could drive restrictions.

Yet at the given moment, I still felt your gnawing inflictions.

You're a worse man, the loser and the loin.

You're a stupider man, the jabber of coin.

You're a harsher man, the flame of the seas.

You're the worst man, and I fell to your knees.

Yet, as I sit here, contemplating over each plan,

I imagine you, still like me, and the better man.

You would've waited for our tranquility,

Instead of marooned me with immobility.

And when I dreamt last night, it was so.

I took your hands and never let you go.

Away to the gunfire, away from my reach,

I said, "What will we have left to teach?"

You smiled and closed my eyes.

The next morning, I was up at sunrise.

I think about that night and today,

Four months since you dissolved away.

If I was any better than you, honest Erik,

I would've deserted you in your scan.

But now, I'm wheeling myself, the hysteric,

Because you, not me, were the better man.


End file.
